


A Boy and his Bug

by steptladders



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8933962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steptladders/pseuds/steptladders
Summary: Some friends are drawn together as if by fate itself. Some friends are bugs that you find on the beach.





	

Guzma always found it hard to sleep at night. Whether it was insomnia or bad dreams, he found himself up in the early hours of the night. Luckily, his parents haven't found out about it, or at least not yet. He would creep out of bed and avoid all the creaking floorboards to listen at the door. If he heard the TV on or his parents arguing in their bedroom, he'd have to give up for the night, but today there was nothing. He opened the door as slowly as he could and tiptoed out into the living room. The room was dark and quiet with only slivers of moonlight illuminating the floating dust in the room. Guzma carefully made his way to the fridge and looked around inside it. The familiar smell of old leftovers hit his nose, something way back in the fridge that nobody wanted to throw away themselves. He pulled out a half empty jar of pickled berries, checking over his shoulder once more before creeping out the front door with the large jar under his arm. Melemele island was somewhat quiet during the night, though there would be the occasional trainer looking for nocturnal pokemon or training for an island challenge. None of them would even question why he was up so late, perhaps because he looked more like a teenager than a ten-year-old boy. He walked the same path as usual down to the rocky shore nearby. A quiet chirping greeted him and a flash of gray darted from a small burrow in the cliffside. A wimpod crawled onto his feet and began attempting to climb Guzma's pant legs.

 "Hey dude, I'm happy to see you too." He couldn't help but laugh at the isopod beginning to run in circles around his feet.

 

* * *

 

 He had been visiting the pokemon every night that he could ever since one particularly rough night at home. He had planned to run away, but only made it as far as the beach before he started having second thoughts. He sat crying on the sand when he felt the tickling antennae of the wimpod prodding at his arm. The wimpod had attempted to cheer the boy up, or at least that's what he thought of it as, by chirping and running in circles, turning sand into the air around it. He talked with the wimpod for a while, knowing that it probably didn't understand him, but just talking with something made him feel better.

 "Parents suck. When I'm bigger, I'm gonna be the best trainer in the world and I'm not gonna need school or nothing!" The wimpod looked up at him with half closed eyes, chirping shortly in response. He gently pet the isopod on its smooth head, earning more enthusiastic chirps. "I've been watching battles in TV. The trainers always act all cool-like." He stood I'm brushing the sand off his seat and assuming a dramatic stance, angling his shoulders forward and extending his arm in front of him. “Gengar, use shadow ball! " he imitated the trainer he had seen many times in reruns on his TV, matching his inflection and tone perfectly. The wimpod seemed excited by it, dashing forward and whipping up a sizable cloud of sand with its tail. Guzma chuckled and resumed his relaxed posture. "I guess you like battling too. I bet you're the toughest dude on this beach!" The wimpod purred as if it knew it was being praised. It darted to its small cave and pulled something back with its mouth. As the isopod got closer, Guzma could see that it was a very dead and very gross fragment of a Shellder. The wimpod gleefully pushed the shell at his feet and looked up at him expectantly.

"I've been watching battles in TV. The trainers always act all cool-like." He stood I'm brushing the sand off his seat and assuming a dramatic stance, angling his shoulders forward and extending his arm in front of him. “Gengar, use shadow ball! " he imitated the trainer he had seen many times in reruns on his TV, matching his inflection and tone perfectly. The wimpod seemed excited by it, dashing forward and whipping up a sizable cloud of sand with its tail. Guzma chuckled and resumed his relaxed posture.

"I guess you like battling too. I bet you're the toughest dude on this beach!" The wimpod purred as if it knew it was being praised. It darted to its small cave and pulled something back with its mouth. As the isopod got closer, Guzma could see that it was a very dead and very gross fragment of a Shellder. The wimpod gleefully pushed the shell at his feet and looked up at him expectantly.

 "Oh uhh, is that supposed to be food?" He squatted down to examine the wimpod's offering closer. It chirped and began nibbling at the flesh loudly. Guzma was repulsed by the smell, but the pokemon kept being so insistent on gifting the rotting corpse to him. His mom would have surely had a heart attack if she found out that he ate it. After the deed was done, the wimpod chirped happily, nearly shoving its head under his hand for more pets. After playing a while longer, Guzma knew he had to go back home. He gave the pokemon one last pet and began his walk back home. The wimpod trailed closely behind him, batting at his ankles with its antennae. Guzma stopped and squatted down to its level.

 "Nah dude, you stay here. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?" He gave a light pat on its head and picked it up to turn it back to the beach. He was unsure if it actually understood, or simply thought he was turning it away, but it seemed to greet him with a familiarity the next night. He began visiting the wimpod every night, bringing some form of food as a gift for it. It seemed to eat anything at all, but he would feel bad feeding it something he wouldn't eat himself. He could sneak out most nights, but sometimes he would just visit the next morning if he couldn't make it. The pokemon didn't appear to mind and enjoyed his present at any time of the day.

 

* * *

 

 Guzma pulled a long pickled berry out of the jar, shaking off the brine before placing it in front of the wimpod. It chirped in response and began chewing into the middle of the berry. Guzma pulled out one for himself and sat down next to it.

 "I bet you've been taking it easy, huh? Things have been alright with me, same stuff as always." He bit off the end of the berry and puckered his face at the sour taste. "Dad has been getting on my ass ‘cause my grades aren't good enough for him. I'm passing, so who cares." The wimpod gave a short chirp in response before resuming its eating.

"I wish you could evolve into a giant monster and eat him up! Well maybe not eat him, maybe just scare him or something..." He trailed off and ate another sour bite of the berry. The wimpod chattered back, either imitating the way Guzma spoke or just speaking in some kind of language of its species. Guzma nodded his head as if he could understand the creature. The wimpod chirped on for several minutes, even while stuffing its face with the berry. Eventually, the pokemon tired itself out and crawled into his lap, letting the boy know he was ready to be pet. Guzma pet the bug's hard shell and looked out to the horizon. It was a cloudy night, but the stars could still be seen peppered across the sky.

 "Hey little dude, I'm gonna graduate from trainer school soon, and then I can become a trainer too." He addressed the pokemon, but his eyes were still tracing the stars above. "I wonder if you'd wanna be my pokemon. We could kick ass and be the best team this island has ever seen!" He smiled down at the wimpod, mindlessly enjoying having its head rubbed. He began to feel the sleepiness finally set in and began his farewell ritual with the pokemon. He'd say bye, the wimpod would follow him for a bit, and then eventually turn back to its cave. Today was peculiar because he couldn't hear the characteristic scurrying of the insect feet on the rock. He was somewhat relieved as it always made him feel bad to turn away the little thing. He crept back stealthily into the house and back into his room, always being careful enough not to get caught. Guzma laid down in bed and began to drift off to sleep. That is until he was jolted awake by a scratching at the window. He feared the worst; perhaps it was a ghost or a robber trying to get in to kill him. He grabbed his pillow as if it were a weapon and inched towards the window, peering out into the darkness. The small wimpod clawed at the glass with its scaly feet and rejoiced at the sight of the boy. Guzma quietly opened the window and the pokemon squeezed under, clicking against the hardwood floor as it ran in circles around him.

“Hey buddy, you can’t be here! You gotta go home.”  The boy picked up the bug to place him back outside but found himself unable to do so. After moments of contemplation, he set the bug back down on the ground. “Fine, but just make sure Dad doesn’t see you, or we’re both in trouble.” He yawned and crawled back into bed. The wimpod chirped quietly and crawled under the bed, circling around before rolling up into a sleeping ball.


End file.
